Oath of Office
Oath of Office takes place in Samantha Grey's home timeline of Dimension Delta Zeta 17-46.
In the shadows of a nation grappling with global tensions, "Oath of Office" plunges into the clandestine world of the United States Secret Service in 1903. As empires clash and the specter of war looms in Europe, a select group of high-ranking officials is forced to confront the existence of powerful forces beyond human understanding.
At a time when the world's great powers face looming global conflict, the United States is at a turning point. Leaders in the Secret Service seek to exploit any advantage they can find to protect the country.
Director Charles Everhart, a man of calculated decisions, presides over a team of ambitious and dedicated officers, including the determined Elizabeth Washington. They are the people who are tasked to protect the nation. They are the ones who know the truth about America's hidden internal enemies, and the powerful forces they use, which the rest of the nation believes was destroyed nearly a decade before. In desperation, the nation's leaders wrestle with the implications of their choices, where power can be both a blessing and a curse, and where the greatest dangers may lie not in the enemy without, but in the depths of a secret prison within.
Elizabeth Washington
December 29th, 1903. Headquarters of the United States Secret Service.
Elizabeth Washington walked into the meeting room, with her briefcase and papers. She wasn't the first, but at least she wasn't the last. The director, Charles Everhart, was already present, and stood quickly, as did several of the others - courtesy due the fairer gender, rather than her rank, high as it was. She was, in fact third most senior in the room, behind the Director and the Deputy Director for Operations. The others called to this meeting were also at her level -- Deputy Assistant Directors. The Service had taken on many new functions and responsibilities since the war as the United States faced new threats from both beyond and within its borders.
There had been an unsuccessful attempt on President Lincoln's life back in 1872, at the height of the Second North American War, and the Secret Service had been born. Elizabeth remembered that, since at a youthful age, she'd been there and helped catch the man. She was near fifty now, in a position of high authority and responsibility, and still with charm enough to get the menfolk to stand when she entered, even though she was colored and had been born a slave.
Times had been hard back then, especially for colored folk, but had improved greatly and rapidly since emancipation -- the undeniable contributions of the ex-slaves to repelling the attacks from Mexico and saving the Republic from the Imperials' mad designs. The whites no longer thought of her people as so much less, but instead, were redefining at break-neck speed what it meant to be American in their own minds. Even the Mexicans, ill-used by the Imperials in the war, were coming to be accepted as Americans, and getting rich as industrialization proceeded apace south of the Rio Grande. With the final extinctions of the last separate wild Indian groups, only the Canadian Territories had suppressed populations left, recidivist British loyalists, scoundrels every one; and the Quebecois, refusing to integrate, and they were slowly being ground down under national unity's heel. Scholars were even calling it 'Ethnogenesis', the formation of a New People, a new manifest destiny.
This reflection left her feeling old, a relic, one of those left who still, and shamefully, sometimes saw the color of skin first; the younger generations were already comingling scandalously. The older generations struggled to keep abreast of it all. Times, as they said, were a changing.
The rest of the men; Oliver Reed, Samuel Carter, Henry Winters, and Theodore Langley arrived and took their seats. Again, the gentlemen rose momentarily as the strikingly beautiful medical doctor, Dr. Arissa Adams, entered the room and took her seat, completing the attendance. These were her peers, her true people. They weren't whites; no, and she wasn't colored; no. They were, like herself, those New People, Americans.
Meeting
Director Charles Everhart called the meeting to order. "Gentlemen and Ladies, we have a situation brewing in Eastern Europe between the British and the Russian Empires. It seems our services are soon required. As you know, the situation in the Balkans is spilling over into the Imperial occupied Slavic regions, and Czar Nicholas has already hinted to our Ambassador he's ready to give it a go to take those lands back. For the time being, President Twain is intent on us continuing our alliance with the Russian Empire. If the Czar makes a move, and this is judged near certain, we intend to support him, in all ways short of direct intervention. This includes munitions, supplies, financial assistance, and invention and device transfers. The shipping lanes in the Pacific and high Arctic will be busy. For us, the Service, we have been tasked with developing plans and capabilities to instigate serf revolts within the populations of old nations of Poland, Hungary, and Romania. Specifically, the Security Cabinet wishes us to deploy our Extraordinary Agents."
He pauses to let his team absorb this information before continuing. "Two of our Extraordinairies, Thunderbolt and Zephyr, will go into Hungary and Romania in deep cover. In your briefing materials, you'll find up-to-date dossiers on the other three; Ironclad, Liberty, and Skyhawk. They aren't suitable for duty in Poland, and instead, will be used in other theaters. We still need an agent for occupied Poland, and I want to hear some ideas."
Oliver Reed speaks up, liaison to the Department of State, charming as ever. "We have substantial immigrant communities from that region, why are we not seeking conventional agents? Surely we have proud Americans who still remember their roots."
The director replies, "We are, but they have ties to the old country and Imperial Security would exploit them, which limits what they can do afield. We need outsiders, but ones that can slip in, and since they'll be without support in hostile situations, extraordinary powers are called for."
Samuel Carter was once a cavalry officer; bold, and aggressive, he had helped transition his regiment from horses to armored vehicles back in the 80's. "Sir, might I suggest an alternative solution? Why not draw on SCP?" He checks himself for a moment, reassuring himself he's in a properly secure room. "Why not enlist one of those beings? We've been keeping them locked up tight since the Cleansing, perhaps it's time to make use of them."
The director was taken aback. Those beings in Secure Containment Protocol were a state secret of the highest order. The common population thought that the last of them had been killed during the Cleansing riots back in '96. To the ordinary citizen, their world had been made clean, purified, safe for their children, safe for humanity. The Intemperance Leagues had disbanded, the Red Laws banning practice of magic and the supernatural had been repealed, and they slept soundly, unknowing about the dozen or so creatures and hundreds of objects kept secreted away by their government. If those would come to light ... no one could predict or contain the turmoil that would erupt. "That would be a significant departure from our usual operations. But if it means protecting America's interests, then perhaps we should consider it around the table. Pros and cons, go."
Oliver Reed went first. "Pro. It pains me to say, but I concur with Samuel. We have been keeping those beings captive for years now. If they can help us in this situation, maybe their imprisonment isn't entirely without purpose. However, it frightens me just to think about it. Pandora opened a box once, too..."
Dr. Adams spoke, "Gentlemen, if I may." The men quickly turned to her voice. "Con. While I understand the need to protect our nation, we must also consider the risks Oliver alludes to. These beings are dangerous, destructive, and unpredictable. They're--" Seeing no other way to put it, she continued with emphasis. "--EVIL. They're secured now, but we're on record recommending they be destroyed. I maintain that. If word we were even considering to use them in this manner got out, it could create vast public disorder and rock the Administration to its foundations. In a time when, I remind, we are contemplating war."
Henry Winters ran the foreign intelligence collection arm of the Service. "Pro. From what information I've gathered on these magical beings, most seem to be quite resilient. HR-423, a living corpse, survived being frozen in ice for a year. 713 was beaten and burned to hairs' breath of its life in the '96 riot, and healed in custody in weeks. Let's be honest, it may not be possible to destroy some of them. However, if we can turn those strengths to our use, I suppose they could complement our existing set of Extraordinairies quite well. And if they are to be used on foreign soil, that would be more plausible to disavow if they are caught or killed."
Theodore Langley ran the Inventions and Special Capabilities Directorate. Himself an engineering genius, rumors ran that he had a young man on his staff in Philadelphia who was miles beyond in creativity and intellect of any other man alive in the world. "Con, twice over. I am minded similarly to Arissa. I doubt any of them would be willing, and even if so, I would not trust them. And I doubt any of you would either." He folded his arms. "If one betrays us, how do we stop it? What could we do? Plant remotely triggered bombs in their heads?" Even he, a master of science and engineering, scoffed at the ridiculousness of that notion.
Elizabeth sensed her turn, and spoke. "Theodore, Arissa; I believe I have a solution that could address your concerns." She continued, "Pro. Mister Carter and I spoke yesterday in preparation for today's agenda. I believe his idea has merit. However, suggesting to make use of a prison's worth of eldritch abominations would of course be a bridge too far. I would balk, Congress would balk, and yes, they would find out." She let that hang there a moment, defiantly. "So ...", she paused for effect, "I propose we enlist one, and only one." She looked down at her portfolio. "Prisoner HR-713. I had my staff look into options for compliance and control, and they came up with an intriguing option. In the SCP vaults we have an object of power. The ..." Her eyes pass around the table, gauging reactions. "...Yes, Item SCP#4907, what they call the 'Heart of Stone'. My staff suggests we might use it to cast a spell, a 'Geas', on it so it would become obedient beyond question. SCP chief Archivist Anderson has researched the wording for the spell required, and is highly confident. We would use magic to control magic."
Theodore continued as she left off. "Magic against magic? That's quite drastic, Elizabeth. We're talking the damnable supernatural here." He quickly scans the materials. "Literally damned. 713 is straight out of the witch trials and the Old Testament Book of Kaine. I don't know how the President would react to that." Yet, clearly he was intrigued by the idea, leaning forward.
Elizabeth spoke again, "I understand the gravity of such an action, but if it means ensuring success in this mission, then I believe it is necessary. It can work, she could find cover under the local folklore, and give us increased deniability, both with the Imps, and here at home. If it works, we have a new path forward, with 713, with others, perhaps for years. If this fails, we kill it, destroy them all, erase every trace of them, and be done with it." Silence hung over the group for a long moment.
Director Everhart spoke. "Very well. I'll present this option to President Twain. I think I can convince him. Elizabeth, for now, why don't you go over this plan with us in more detail ..."
Leavenworth
Later that same month, in Leavenworth Secure Containment Prison. A priest, visibly uncomfortable, visits prisoner HR-713 in its cell. It, or perhaps *she*, had occasional visits from him before, and despite the infernal taint she'd lived with for over two hundred years, she insisted she was still, nominally, Catholic. He was skeptical of her, but attended her spiritual needs regardless. Today was different. He offered to hear confession from her, and nothing else. She participated, but as usual, confessed no sins other than her existence and desire to murder her guards, and him. Every time he ministered, her eyes pierced him, and he knew, she knew. Mary, Mother of God, if she ever did kill him, he knew he would have deserved it.
Later, a pair of guards come to remove her from her cell. She eyes them, and they are cautious. She's resisted in the past, and been beaten harshly for it. Still, she's cuffed and chained, and taken away. A heavy manacle around her ankle, crudely forged cold from pure iron, clanks as she walks, containing her powers. She is unable to cast spells, to take flight, or to raise her fire. "Come along, 713, keep pace.", one says, as she's pulled along the corridor.
They take her on a route she's not been on before. Ordinarily, her daily routine took her less than a hundred steps back and forth from isolation to an excersize yard, a dirt patch, fifty feet long and ten wide, with heavy stone walls and a chain mesh ceiling. Sometimes she saw footprints there. She'd never seen a hint there were other inmates beyond that. This time, she is brought to an empty room, circular, dimly lit by torches, with a stone block and chains in the center. "Sit", they command, and secure her cuffs and manacles to the floor. They leave her there, alone to her fears.
Samantha had been relatively free after the attainment had been lifted twenty years after the trials. Still an outcast; she'd wandered the edges of the frontier, living in the no-man's world between the natives and the steadily advancing settlers. She'd found and used camps abandoned by the Indians as they retreated from the certain death meted out to them by civilization. She's even found and used cabins left behind by explorers. Sometimes, she could live in one for years at a time, but always, the settlers would come, and they would not tolerate her kind, even less than they tolerated the natives. She'd known it was only a matter of time; she could only go so far west, and civilization crept eastward from the Pacific coast gold fields, as well. They would meet, and eventually, trap her. That time came in Utah, six years ago. Beyond reason, she found some measure of toleration with the sect that settled there after the War, perhaps, because they too were outcasts. Perhaps they saw she was not such a threat as her appearance suggested. But others settled there too, and a day came when she couldn't run fast enough, or far enough, and a rioting crowd had taken her, and attempted to burn her to death, once again. That didn't work. She was fire, already. And in the wake of the angry crowds came lawmen, and they had taken her away, in cold iron chains.
She'd known she would come to an end. She'd already had a life longer than anyone had a right to. Perhaps, perhaps it would be quick, and she would finally be judged, for good or ill, by one, the only One, with a true right to judge her.
Some hours later, the door opened, and three figures in heavy robes entered, their faces covered by cowls. Two, on either side, held swords, gleaming iron, cold in the torchlight. The one in the center, possibly a woman, held a small box, and carried it forward.
This was the end. Samantha lowered her head, tensed herself to receive what was to come, and whispered a prayer. Perhaps she would be permitted to leave pursuing a state of grace.
The woman opened the box, and a presence of ancient power gripped Samantha in a vise, stealing her breath, halting her heart. The woman began to speak in a steadily rising crescendo.
"By this spell cast, by the Sacred Honor of The United States of America, I, Elizabeth Washington, hereby bind you, Samantha Grey, born of Croatoa Colony in the Year of Our Lord 1681, to service to our realm; to defend it against all enemies, foreign or domestic. You shall serve with true faith and allegiance, comply without question or evasion to any command given by your lawfully appointed superiors or their chosen agents; and be held loyal and obedient unto your final day on this Earth. This bond is sealed, unbreakable and eternal, without possibility of parole or escape, by the blood of the innocent, by the anguish of the guilty, by the tears of the penitent, in the presence of the Heart of Stone, until such time as your service to our nation is held discharged by its President. So let it be!"
Her skin crawled, her flesh was hot, her mind was on fire. It felt like being branded, a hot iron searing into her, her gaze focused on the stone in the box, she could not take her eyes off it. She was being coerced beyond her ability to withstand, straining against her chains. Wild eyed, she gasped for air, then cried out, loudly, with an eager will that was instantly becoming her own, "So I solemnly swear!"